Character in Boots

             With her boots on, she stood taller than everyone else in the room. Combined with the dark clothes, studded bracelets and the black eyeliner she had an aura around her that told even the most hardened felon to back off.

            Then she smiled and waved her hand and drew you into her world. With her cute puppy dog shirts disarming you and contrasting her metal image even as the blackness absorbed all the light.

            “I have to go work at the amusement park this weekend, but after that, I’m free to meet,” she said in her quiet voice. I had to lean forward to catch what she was saying. Today she was playing the part of the goth chick ready to say ‘Fuck You!’ to the world, but just last week she was dressed as Little Bo Peep, complete with the cute dress and pigtails. I never knew what to expect from her.

            That’s probably why I couldn’t stay away from her. I wanted to know how she could appear as two completely different characters week in and week out. It was madding. Just when I figured her out, she shifted.

            Last week walking down the street I saw her standing on the corner. She was yelling and screaming at her smartphone. I heard her use words that no sailor would be caught dead saying. She passed by me, tears streaming from her eyes. I didn’t think she saw me, but the next day she apologized for making such a scene in public. When I asked her what that was all about, she said the gas man wanted to charge her an extra five dollars to come out and read her meter.

            I don’t know whether to fall in love with her or run screaming for the safety of online porn.

The only thing I don’t get is the scar on her hand. It looks like someone dropped scalding water on it. On some days it’s red and puckering. Other days it’s healed over and not an issue. I asked her about it one day. That was the only time I was ever scared, talking to her.

“What happened to your hand? Are you okay?” I asked.

“This?” She waved the scared hand in the air and tucked into under her other one. “This is nothing. I got caught in the ice cream cleaner at work.”

“Are you sure?”

“I. said. I. was. fine. Don’t. ask. Me. again.” Her eyes were drilling into mine as she enunciated every word. I felt my breath catch and knew then if I said anything, she would steal my soul from my body.

“Okay, I won’t,” I said, swallowing and looking away.

She works two jobs but says that they are just a stepping stone to what she really wants to do. When I asked her about that she would look down and twist her shoulders in what can only be described as cute on crack. Then she wouldn’t answer my question and change the subject.

I want to know her secret.